Companion, I
by CaideSin
Summary: I know you, don't be ridiculous & Romeo and Juliet in a Getaway Car & and God made us brothers, I'd rip you to shreds.
1. Companion, I Hiruma & Musashi

Hiruma's eyes turned upwards and he picked soulfully at the grass beneath his fingers, toed the dirt beneath the grass. The cicadas were noisy, deafening and horny and he'd never much liked that noise but had enjoyed finding their abandoned skins and feeding them to the chickens on his grandmother's farm.

"Do you mind if I talk to myself," he muttered dryly to a blade of grass and ignored the way Gen looked over at him in confusion, realizing it wasn't him Youichi was talking to.

And sometimes people forgot that Hiruma had wishes too, thoughts and feelings more complicated than what he showed them on the outside (more than just a force, but a part of nature as well and sometimes nature is complex in its simplicity).

"Youichi," Gen answered, rolling onto his stomach and looking up through the nighttime, trying to search out Hiruma's blackcat eyes. "Don't be an asshole."

He heard the cicadas chorus sharply and heard Hiruma pluck out another clump of grass and felt Hiruma's toes on his calf suddenly, poking and prodding.

"You have such a way with words sometimes, fucker," Youichi laughed, maybe his earrings jangled a little as he turned his head away, the sound not so laughing at all.

"I just know how to read you."

"No one knows how to read me."

"I can. Anezaki can. Kurita can, sometimes Sena too."

Hiruma threw grass in face without looking down at him, a sulky action with no bite and Gen crawled forward on his elbows, lying across Hiruma's thighs.

"Get off," Youichi complained and Gen smirked and played with the hem of Hiruma's shirt. "Get off of me."

"Throw me off."

Hiruma finally looked down at him, his mouth frowning and his muscles flexing as he considered doing just that.

"Fucker."

Gen smiled and crawled up a little further, staining the knees of slacks on the grass and not minding all that much.

"You're the best out there, you know that?" he wondered nonchalantly. Hiruma lay back on the hill with his hands under his head and Gen rested comfortably on his stomach, Hiruma's knifebone hip jutting up into his side.

"Flattery gets you sent to Hell," demon answered after a good long while of staring at the sky, talking to himself inside his head, weighing options and thoughts and deciding maybe this one would cause the least amount of damage.

"Shut up," Gen laughed. He could do that here in the dark with only Hiruma to hear because Hiruma is the analyst who knows just which pillars to support. (But that means he takes all the weight that really matters.) "I don't flatter anyone, least of all you, you haughty bastard."

He felt the mirth bubbling deep inside of Youichi Hiruma, knew that was the kind of answer Youichi needed to hear but maybe the point still hadn't been made and Gen pushed himself up until he could lay his ear over Youichi's heart. It was still there and beating, much to Youichi's irritation.

Nails dragged across his scalp and Hiruma scratched at him like a dog. "What are you doing, old man?" His voice came through from far away and Gen frowned because sometimes Hiruma could be such a pain in the ass that way.

"Stop pulling back now." And Musashi breathed in his scent which was sweat and gunpowder and grass clippings and strong and sharp and sweet. "I know what you're doing. I know you're thinking about the team. I know you're thinking about all the scenarios. I know you've noticed that the best thing for you to do is to depend on them and care about them. And I know that you hate that. I know your first instinct is to remind them you can toss them aside. I know you've realized that tossing them aside would hurt you as much as the possibility of disappointment would. I know you're trying to rationalize. So stop."

"I'm not," Hiruma replied, surly. But he was. "What happens happens."

"You are. And I know you think you can accept what happens as long as you do preemptive damage control on your feelings beforehand."

"Fuck you."

"Snappy."

They reached a stalemate and the sky was quiet above and the cicadas were wild all around them. Gen slid his arms under Hiruma, brought them both up and held him like that.

"You wanted me to be your companion," Musashi murmured, "and I've always done it. Maybe I didn't do it as well as I could have when I left the team, but I'm doing it _right_ now. So listen."

"So goddamn chatty tonight you never—"

"Don't play your game with me right now."

"I always play my game with everyone all the time, it's the only thing that keeps me interested, you—"

"Youichi."

Hiruma fell silent, held against Gen's chest and wordless and aggravated and tired. His lungs filled with air.

"Whatever."

Gen grinned, cagey, and crushed him a little closer, because he knew what that meant.

He could speak this boy's language like a native tongue.

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**Standard Disclaimers.**


	2. 08 Bonnie & Clyde Hiruma & Mamori

Beneath her sweater there is a collared shirt with snap-fronts. She tugs them open in one smooth line and tosses the shirt aside. Her bra also clips open in the front. Her pants unbutton and she shakes them free, peels off each sock. Then she steps into the shower.

She stands under the spray opened mouthed for a moment before threading her fingers back through her hair and thinking. Her hair is too goddamn long, which probably just goes to show how long Hiruma has had her busy.

She drinks deep on the heat of the shower before she begins her ritual of shampoos. There was another article about them in the newspaper today. Blurred photos and baffled comments and outrageous figures.

Mamori frowns and wonders where _it_ went. The _money_ is in the next room, but all her of _desires_ left her the day she graduated from the university and Hiruma came back to remind her of all the things _he has_.

She writes the thank-you letters now, in her crisp feminine hand and Hiruma delivers them because he loves the thrill—loves to win and she loves…

She doesn't know why she's here. She's too good for this, too good for him and even while she's here for him, she could never possibly love him. This isn't about taming him because he would rather die than let someone mutilate him that way.

No, she hates Hiruma Youichi. She hates him because he challenges her. He doesn't even treat her like she's proper competition, yet… She bites at every challenge.

What else should she be doing? Going steady with Sakuraba? He always the amazing receiver and she just a high school football club manager? Or… should she be here. Where Hiruma demands she be stronger, better, faster than any other woman in Japan, where she's never good enough, where she will never always look perfect.

Mamori rinses her hair. She'll need to get it cut soon, it's just too noticeable and this can't last forever.

High risk, high return, but someone will slip up some day and she doesn't want it to be her. She's kept her lines open, besides. She still talks to everyone as if life is as it should be. She talks about her job, her busy management-oriented job that pays so well and is so fulfilling, because it is fulfilling, even if her beautifully calligraphed thank-you notes are always worded to be as respectful and apologetic as possible.

She thinks Sena knows something is amiss, but he doesn't know how to breach the subject and she doesn't know how to explain besides.

Gen probably knows, only because he reads Hiruma like it is his native language.

But the others… they are clueless, except Yukimitsu who has developed a dangerous little bug. It simply melts security systems…

She is nearly finished washing when she hears the door open and the shower curtain move aside.

"Are you fucking finished in here yet?" Hiruma complains.

Mamori scowls at him and pushes him back, jerking the curtain shut again. "Don't come in while I'm showering."

He lets out a little barking laugh and leaves the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him.

"Yuki sent the newest fucking tape," he calls and he knows it makes her hurry to finish and join him.

There are two beds here, in this hotel room. She sits on hers and dries her hair as he puts the disc into his laptop. She watches the security footage over his shoulder… and between them sits a quiet little suitcase.

* * *

**Standard Disclaimers.**


	3. Stone Buddha and Iron Snake Agon & Unsui

Vicious and wild, Agon's hands, his own. Unsui endures. Agon's teeth at his throat, gnawing after sibling marrow. Unsui endures.

"Brother, brother, sweet brother," Agon purrs in contempt, tongue leaving sleek trails of venom.

Unsui endures. He gazes at the unruly child his brother has become with eyes like granite. He is a frozen god, cold and loveless in these moments.

Agon worships and tempts. "What would I do without my brother?"

His scales creep between the folds of clothing, his fingertips tread where they will.

Unsui smiles his frigid smile. "You would do as you please, with no compunction."

Agon snarls, tosses his head in a flay of whips. Unsui is unmoved by his petulance, he grasps Agon's hair and holds him in his steady grip.

Agon fights and then stills, poised.

"I will not be corrupted by you," Unsui promises in the hisses that he learned as a child and Agon has now tainted with his monstrous appetites.

Agon bears his teeth, smiling. "We will see how long you can endure, brother."

He smashes their mouths together; their bodies collide falling back on the clean hard-wood floors.

Unsui is silent, silent and enduring.

* * *

**Standard Disclaimers.**

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End file.
